Before she died 45 years ago, Judy Garland started work on an autobiography—but it was never finished or published. The iconic Wizard of Oz star did, however, give many interviews over the course of her career that, stitched together, help tell her fascinating, tumultuous life story.

That’s the goal of the new book Judy Garland on Judy Garland: Interviews and Encounters edited by Randy Schmidt. The tome includes conversations the legendary actress/singer had between 1935 and the year of her death, 1969, including her last known interview.

Check out photos from the book from across Garland’s life—at home, at work, and in concert—in the gallery above. Below, Schmidt has pulled twelve of the book’s most revealing quotes on her family life, career struggles, and what her famous song, “Over the Rainbow,” meant to her.

On dealing with her perpetually youthful image.“Ever since The Wizard of Oz I’ve been accused of being twelve years old. You should see some of the disappointed looks I get, when people lay eyes on me in person. They expect someone in gingham, with braids, to come out singing ‘Over the Rainbow.’ And out I come, instead. I think some of them are pretty angry with me, too, for not wearing braids, and not dressing like Dorothy, and not being eleven or twelve. They’ve written in about it.”

—to James Reid, 1940

On what it means to be religious.“I believe that the real expression of your religious beliefs is shown in the daily pattern of your life, in what you contribute to your surroundings and what you take away without infringing on the rights of other people. … Real religion is in your mind and heart, and can’t be judged by the number of times you go to church.”

—to Screenland, 1946

On her birth name, Frances Gumm.“Actors live in a queer sort of double world. Not many of us have the names or identities we were born with. I don’t associate Frances Gumm with me—she’s a girl I can read about the way other people do. I, Judy Garland, was born when I was twelve years old. When a studio puts you under contract, its publicity department starts turning out news copy about you that you read with astonishment. You think, can this be me they’re talking about? They don’t really manufacture untruths, but they play up whatever makes interesting reading, and then a columnist adds his own little embellishments and another adds to that until there’s a whole body of so called ‘facts’ floating around—almost like another you—that simply isn’t real. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t real, either.”

—to Michael Drury, 1951

On dealing with life’s tragedies.“People think of me as a neurotic kid, full of fits and depressions, biting my fingernails to the bone, living under an eternal shadow of illness and collapse. Why do people insist on seeing an aura of tragedy around me always? My life isn’t tragic at all. I laugh a lot these days. At myself, too. Lord, if I couldn’t laugh at myself I don’t think I’d be alive.”

—to Herbert Kretzmer, 1960

On her love of audiences.“You stand there in the wings, and sometimes you want to yell because the band sounds so good. Then you walk out and if it’s a really great audience, a very strange set of emotions can come over you. … A really great reception makes me feel like I have a great big warm heating pad all over me. People en masse have always been wonderful to me. I truly have a great love for an audience, and I used to want to prove it to them by giving them blood. But I have a funny new thing now, a real determination to make people enjoy the show. I want to give them two hours of just pow!”

On how her children perceived her fame.“My children never play my records at home. They aren’t too interested in my career. Little Lorna once, quite sharply, told a patronizing English newspaperman, who had asked her if Judy Garland sang lullabies to the children at bedtime, ‘No, she doesn’t, and we don’t call her Judy Garland, just Momma.'”

—to Jack Hamilton, 1962

On her children’s talent for show business.“I went along with the theory for a long time that they shouldn’t be exposed to [show business]. But I’m afraid they’re stuck with it. My sixteen-year-old daughter [Liza] is terribly good. She’s a magnificent dancer and also an awfully good actress. And she’s very pretty. And my nine-year-old girl is the Gertrude Lawrence of Scarsdale! There’s just no holding her. My little boy, Joe, he’s seven. He doesn’t know quite whether he wants to be a conductor or a mechanic. … I don’t know what they’re going to do. They can do what they want. But thank God they’re talented! Wouldn’t that be awful if they wanted to be on stage and had no talent?”

—to William B. Williams, 1962

On losing the Academy Award to Grace Kelly.“I remember the night I was up for the Academy Award for A Star is Born. Little Joe had been born just a day before. TV cameras moved in for what I now jokingly call ‘the kill.’ They were to be [at the hospital] if I won. I didn’t. Grace Kelly did—and why not, she’d done a good job. When her name was announced, all the technicians packed up their equipment and moved out—without even saying good night, let alone they were sorry I didn’t win. They seemed annoyed at me for losing.”

—to TV Radio Mirror, 1965

On drinking.“You know something? Someone came up to interview me this afternoon and said that people are saying I hit the bottle. Now, what does that mean—hit the bottle? Does it literally mean smacking the bottle? Or does it mean that I like to drink? I told the girl that I like to drink iced-tea, like to drink soup, like to drink vodka and tonic. And, anyway, what kind of a question is that?”

—to John Gruen, 1967

On her strained relationship with her mother.“My mother was truly a stage mother. A mean one. … She was very jealous because she had absolutely no talent. … She would sort of stand in the wings when I was a little girl and if I didn’t feel good, if I was sick to my tummy, she’d say, ‘You get out and sing or I’ll wrap you around the bedpost and break you off short!’ So I’d go out and sing.”

—to Barbara Walters, 1967

On living as a ‘legend.’“I’ve heard how ‘difficult’ it is to be with Judy Garland. Do you know how difficult it is to be Judy Garland? And for me to live with me? I’ve had to do it—and what more unkind life can you think of than the one I’ve lived? I’m told I’m a legend. Fine. But I don’t know what that means. I certainly didn’t ask to be a legend. I was totally unprepared for it.”

—to McCall’s, 1967

On whether she got sick of her signature song.“[Am I] tired of ‘Over the Rainbow?’ Listen, it’s like getting tired of breathing. The whole premise of the song is a question. A quest. At the end, it isn’t, ‘Well, I’ve found my world and I am a success and you and I will be together.’ The lyric is having little bluebirds ‘fly over the rainbow. Why, oh, why can’t I?’ It represents everyone’s wondering why things can’t be a little better.”

AMG/Parade Digital

Connect With Us

More from AMG/Parade

Our partners

Your use of this website constitutes and manifests your acceptance
of our User Agreement,
Privacy Policy,
Cookie Notification,
and awareness of the California Privacy Rights.
Pursuant to U.S. Copyright law, as well as other applicable federal
and state laws, the content on this website may not be reproduced,
distributed, displayed, transmitted, cached, or otherwise used,
without the prior, express, and written permission of Athlon Media Group.
Ad Choices